


Castle in the Clouds

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Come Swallowing, Kilts, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 16:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15586353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: I was talking to @kylostahp  who told me about a strange satirical newspaper to which their husband subscribes, which contains an oddball personals section. One of said personal ads went as follows:"Scottish clan without a chief for 216 years. I may be The One. Can you help fund genealogist for final steps?"And they said that sounded like a fic prompt. So here is that fic. No offense meant to the actual Clan Forsyth, which I have changed to Clan Forsith, for reasons.





	Castle in the Clouds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kylostahp (hawkeward)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeward/gifts).



“I’m here about the ad,” the redhead said, and Kylo looked him up and down.

“You’re here to challenge me for the rite of succession?” Red hair and eyes the slate grey color of a loch in a storm made Kylo’s visitor /look/ the part more than Kylo himself did, but Kylo could feel it in his bones. He was the true heir of Clan Forsith. They’d gone without a chief for two centuries... two centuries and sixteen years, to be exact, and had vanished from the records. Faded into obscurity. He’d had to invent his own tartan— black, with grey and red plaid— and wore it proudly. The man on his doorstep seemed to be inspecting the kilt from a respectable distance.

“Certainly not,” the man said. “I’m a geneticist and a genealogical researcher. You included your address in the personal ad.” He proffered the newspaper clipping as if Kylo would have forgotten having written it. Kylo glanced it over anyway, reading the words again, looking for any wording that might have suggested, ‘please come to my flat and bother me.’ He saw nothing of the kind, as the ad read:

"Scottish clan without a chief for 216 years. I may be The One. Can you help fund genealogist for final steps?" Followed by an address for respondents to send cash or cheque.

Kylo’s eyes found the stranger’s. “How much are you asking, then? I can’t say I’ve had time to collect a lot of donations just yet.” He fanned himself with the clipping. The whole of the UK was in the grips of a heat wave, and Kylo had taken to going about shirtless when he could, wrapping just the kilt about his hips for decency’s sake.

The genealogist, who had not yet given his name, seemed momentarily distracted by the flicker of paper, but straightened up after a beat too long. “Not a penny. I thought it would be a fun project. Essentially, I’m offering to do it for the bants.”

“That so? Well, come in then, Doctor,” Kylo finally relented, stepping aside to allow the man into his cramped apartment. He had to admit, it was not an abode befitting the sole heir of a once-great dynasty, but times had changed. “Should I put the kettle on?” Chivalry was important to him.

“Too hot for tea,” the man said. “I’m Armitage Hux. I prefer to be called by my surname.”

“Kylo Ren,” Kylo answered, opening up a plastic container of dry-cured meats from Sainsbury’s, dumping them on a cutting board with two half-finished wedges of cheese, most of a box of water crackers, and a bowl of grapes. He placed the board on the low coffee table in front of the sofa, clearing books and his knife sharpening kit out of the way. Hux drew a MacBook Air out of his bag, and typed Kylo’s name into an open document.

“That’s an unusual name,” he said, “can you tell me about its origins?”

“Not really. It isn’t my birth name. I suppose you’ll be needing that in order to trace my family.” He grimaced, but reached under the coffee table to pull out a very badly damaged old book. The spine was completely cracked, and Kylo held it together with a ribbon. “I was born Benjamin Bail Organa-Solo.”

“Oh indeed? Any relation to the MP?” He’d put his computer aside to spread Camembert on a cracker.

“Yes. Here.” He carefully opened the book to a marked page which was filled with a hand-painted illustration of a family tree. It ended with a son, though his name was blotted out. “I believe this man was my grandfather. Somebody inked over his name, but I’ve had this page examined and was able to get the letters D, G, N, V, A, and S. Not much to go on initially, but after doing a bit more research on my own...” He recounted the trail he’d followed to arrive at the conclusion that his mother, who had been adopted, was the direct descendant of Daegan Vaus, black sheep son of the Forsith line.

“So why did you change your name to Kylo Ren instead of... I don’t know, Calum Forsith?” Hux asked, leafing carefully through the delicate old book.

“Because I was eighteen and thought it sounded cool,” Kylo retorted. “I’ll change it again if you can help me prove I’m a legitimate heir. Then I can petition the Court of Lord Lyon to recognize Clan Forsith, as it’s currently armigerous, and then I suppose I’ll be named Chief Kylo Forsith of that Ilk. Or something.”

Kylo picked at the hem of his kilt, as Hux’s sharp eyes watched.

“Then I suppose the seat of the Clan will be this flat? Castle Block Housing of the windswept highlands of Tower Hamlets?” Hux sniped, popping a grape into his mouth. Kylo frowned.

“No need to act like that, Doctor,” he admonished. Hux grinned.

“Only teasing,” he said. He pulled his laptop over and wrote some notes. “Your research has been a great deal more thorough than most of my clients,” he commented. “Most people who contact me do so after doing that ‘23 and Me’ chromosome test and then they want me to find out if they’re related to anyone royal or famous. The thing of it is, most people are related to SOMEBODY if you go back far enough. Take me, for example. I look Irish as anything, but on my mother’s side I’m related to William the Conqueror. After a little over a thousand years, it doesn’t matter much, though.”

“Does that make you related to the Queen?” Kylo asked, nibbling a water cracker. It would soon make him thirsty.

“Very distantly. Thirty times removed or something like that.” He typed very rapidly, and Kylo wondered what the next steps would be. What resources would Hux have that Kylo hadn’t already exhausted? “So Clan Forsith is not currently recognized, then?” Hux asked, typing a series of questions into his document.

“No, the chief refused to attend a gathering in the 18th century and so the Clan was stripped of its legitimacy. Then he died in 1802, and the record becomes muddy after that.” Hux nodded, not looking at him as he copied that information down. He had such an intense face as he concentrated. Kylo wondered what Hux’s life was like that he could simply show up at a stranger’s door and offer to do a complete genealogical study without asking for payment.

“1802, that’s fairly recent, as family histories go. I should be able to find some records. I was afraid you’d tell me the trail had gone cold in the Middle Ages.” He reached blindly for more of the food Kylo had put out, bit into a slice of salami. “I thought your ad was quite funny. I’m glad it wasn’t based on a total fantasy.”

“Funny how?” Kylo asked. He’d thought it had been fairly to-the-point.

“The way you capitalised ‘The One’. Like, ‘there can be only One’, Highlander stuff. Have you seen that movie?” Hux was very skilled at typing, talking, and eating at the same time.

“When I was eight,” Kylo answered, a little miffed. He stood to cross to the kitchen, pulled a bottle of elderflower cordial and an almost empty bottle of gin down from a cupboard. Dropped some ice and some slices of cucumber into a pair of tumblers, and poured a shot of gin into each, topping up with the cordial and a splash of tonic water. “Should’ve asked, do you drink?”

“Whiskey or gin,” Hux answered briskly.

“Well, that’s fine then,” Kylo returned, coming back to the room with the two drinks. Hux accepted his silently, took a sip.

“That’s quite good, actually,” he commented, finally pulling his eyes away from his screen to actually look at what he was consuming.

“I’m a bartender,” Kylo explained.

“Where at?” Hux asked, taking a longer pull from the drink.

“A speakeasy themed cocktail lounge, near King’s Cross.”

“Huh,” Hux said, licking his lips. “I don’t suppose that’s what you wear to work?” He looked Kylo over again, from his bare chest to his kilt, and then down to his feet. Kylo snorted.

“No,” he stretched, laced his fingers behind his head to show off his hard-won musculature. “They make me wear non-slip shoes.”

Hux smirked. “I can just imagine a bar that only employs muscular men in kilts, shaking martinis to show off their biceps. Like a Scots inverse of Hooters.”

“Like that bara bar in Japan? Employing muscular guys to flex at women?”

“I thought bara was a gay thing,” Hux replied, “like bears.”

“Well I don’t know what the bar is called,” Kylo admitted. “I’d be surprised if something like what you’re describing didn’t exist, though.”

“If it doesn’t, perhaps that should be your business venture,” Hux suggested. “Once you’re named Chief of the Clan Forsith, I mean. So that you can start saving up for a proper castle to be the seat of your illustrious family.”

Kylo thought Hux was probably taking the piss, but played along. “You’d come to the bar, wouldn’t you?”

“That depends. What would the floor show be? Couldn’t be a highland dance, if it’s true what Scotsmen don’t wear beneath their kilts.” He hid his smile in his glass. Kylo’s heart thudded. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was being rather ferociously flirted with.

“Would you be looking for my bonny blue silk ribbon?” he returned, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Either Hux would be offended, or he’d take the bait.

“‘Lad I don’t know where you been, but I see you’ve won first prize,’” Hux sang, still grinning. Kylo licked elderflower and gin from his lips.

“I’m not actually wearing a blue silk ribbon,” Kylo confessed. “But you’re welcome to check.”

“Bold, Mr. Ren,” Hux accused, but he was closing his laptop and placing his tumbler on the table. “Just what I’d expect from the chief of a fearsome Scottish Clan.” He turned to Kylo on the sofa.

Moments later, he was lifting the hem of Kylo’s kilt, peering underneath. Kylo bit his lip to keep from saying anything stupid, especially when Hux looked up at him from between his spread legs, one eyebrow raised.

“Well,” Hux said, that same mean smile still haunting his lips, “no one can accuse you of flouting tradition.”

Kylo swallowed. Ice melted in his glass. Hux ducked his head under Kylo’s kilt and began kissing up his inner thigh, slipped a hand up his other leg until he could wrap it around Kylo’s cock, stroke it until it began to harden, suck the head into his mouth. Shuddering, Kylo watched the shape of Hux’s head moving up and down under the fabric of his kilt, couldn’t believe how hot it looked. Kylo groaned low in his throat, and Hux answered him, his moan vibrating through Kylo in a way that had his toes curling.

“Hux, oh, fuck, you’re fucking /good/ at this,” he gasped. He didn’t think he’d ever had such a skilled blowjob in such unexpected circumstances.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Hux slurred against his tip before swallowing Kylo down again.

“Yeah? One peek under my kilt and you, you had to, mmm, oh, /Christ/, Hux!” He lost his train of thought when Hux got him into his throat, swallowed convulsively and made Kylo see spots. His legs shook. Hux drew back with a loud, sucking slurp, and Kylo breathed a broken moan. “Shit, Hux... you’re gonna make me come so fast. Your mouth is so good, oh, god...” He squeezed his eyes shut. Red sparks danced behind his eyes as Hux tongued his slit and hummed right against the head. “Do you want to fuck me after this? I’d flick my kilt up for you. You could fuck me right here—“ Suddenly, the heat of Hux’s mouth disappeared and Kylo whined humiliatingly loudly, until Hux’s lips returned to his tip, and his thumb, slick with spit, started rubbing Kylo’s hole and pressing shallowly in. “Oh fuck! Jesus! Hux!” Kylo exclaimed, arching into the dual stimulation. “Yeah, pull at my rim, just like that, feels so good, so good, oh—“ His breath caught, he clawed the back of the sofa in a death grip. “Gonna come, Hux, gonna come, aah, ah, AAH—!” He strained and shouted as the pleasure crested, white flashes behind his eyelids as he twisted, overstimulated but /loving it/ as Hux did not let up. Hux swallowed his release greedily, humming his appreciation as he continued stretching Kylo’s hole. Kylo had to push Hux away from his twitching, softening cock and was treated to the sight of Hux emerging from under the kilt, hair a mess, licking his lips in a filthily self-satisfied way.

“Couldn’t allow any of that to get on your tartan, now could I?” he purred, looking as though he’d like nothing better than to go again, swallow another load.

Kylo was too wrung out to answer. He panted heavily, rolled over into his stomach, and slowly got to his knees. It felt like a serious effort but when he was finally ass-up with his face buried in a throw pillow, he made a plaintive, keening sound that made Hux chuckle.

“Well you /are/ a pretty picture, Chief Forsith,” he cooed. “Tell me, where could a humble genealogist find His Lordship’s lube?”

Kylo huffed. “Don’t be an arse,” he groused. “It’s in the bedroom, on top of the dresser.”

“My my, out in the open? His Lordship is brazen, isn’t he,” Hux teased, then dodged Kylo’s blind kick behind himself. “I shall go fetch it, forthwith.” Kylo burned with embarrassment as Hux went about the house, heard the quiet ‘a-ha’, once he’d located the bottle, waited until Hux returned.

“All jokes aside,” Hux said, “you really are gorgeous. If you’d let me, I’d take a picture of you like this, all tense, arse up in the air, waiting for me to come and open you up for my cock. The only way the image could be improved is if you were hard again, tenting the kilt. That would be perfect.”

Kylo groaned into the pillow. “Are you serious? You actually want a picture of me like this?”

“Absolutely serious. I promise I won’t share it anywhere. I’d only use it for... personal gratification.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. Kylo could see how hard Hux was in his slim fit jeans.

“You mean wanking?” Kylo asked, tactlessly.

“I mean wanking, yes.”

“Well,” Kylo replied, “that’s fine. I’ll try to get hard again for you.” He reached under his kilt, began stroking his cock to hardness again. Hux made a choked off sound and began snapping pictures. Kylo had never performed for a camera before, thought it would make him shy, but hearing how much Hux wanted this, feeling Hux’s heavy, lustful gaze made it easy, made him bow his back and look at the camera with parted lips as he got himself hard again. “Hux, can’t wait for you to fuck me. Want to feel you inside. Can you come inside me? Are you clean? I bet that would make a good photo: your come running down my thighs under my kilt.”

Hux moaned, face red and blotchy, fingers of his free hand straying to press over his hard cock. He took photo after photo, squeezing his cock through his jeans and staring almost unblinking at the picture Kylo made, fist moving quick and merciless under his kilt, ass up, back bowed, muscles of his other arm straining to hold himself up.

“Are you hard now?” Hux asked, voice thick.

“Yes. Look,” Kylo offered, placing both hands on the arm of the couch so his kilt fell and was tented by his cock, the way Hux had fantasized. He watched Hux take a few more pictures, watched him use finger and thumb to zoom in, assumed hux was photographing his tented kilt alone.

“Beautiful,” Hux sighed. “I’ve actually never photographed anyone like this. I’m not going to be able to look at these photos without getting hard.”

“Good,” Kylo said. “Move my book out of the way and then get over here. I want you in me.”

“Yes, Chief,” Hux replied nastily, moving the disintegrating book gently to the table. He’d slipped the small bottle of lube into his pocket but drew it out when he knelt on the sofa behind Kylo. “Now, let’s see...” he pulled Kylo’s kilt up over his ass, folded it up to expose him. “Oh,” he murmured, trailing one hand down Kylo’s ass. “You’re muscular all over. Perhaps another time you should like to fuck me? I’d like to do it in front of a mirror so I could watch all these glorious muscles flexing as you pounded into me.”

“Mmnh,” was Kylo’s only reply. He heard the lube uncap and spread his legs, waiting. Hux didn’t make him wait long. Kylo jolted when the cold lube touched his hole but Hux was so deft pushing one then two fingers into him, it didn’t matter. He was panting and drooling into the pillow within minutes.

“Your hole is so ready,” Hux murmured, “soft and open for me.” He slid a third finger in and Kylo sighed shakily. “Is this how you like it?”

Kylo didn’t think he needed to answer that question. He was moaning loud and needy, biting the pillow in his arms like an utter cliché. “Want you,” Kylo pleaded, muffled by the throw pillow. “Please, I’m so hard, wanna come again when you’re in me.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” Hux shuffled his jeans and underwear down his thighs, and Kylo twisted to get a look at him.

“Oh, you’re kinda thick,” Kylo commented. “Hope I’m stretched enough.”

Hux paused with his trousers around his knees and his cock hanging out. “Should I give you another finger, to be sure?”

Kylo thought about it. “No,” he decided. “I bet the stretch is gonna feel good.”

Hux reached under him, slipped his lube-slick fingers up Kylo’s cock. They found his slit, felt the gathering wetness there. “You’d better be careful or you’ll ruin your kilt. I’m willing to bet this is 100% wool.”

“You’re correct,” Kylo confirmed. Hux withdrew his hand, squeezed some more lube into it and slicked himself up. Gripping Kylo’s ass, he slid his cock up and down the crease a few times, rubbing back and forth over Kylo’s sensitized hole and making him whine and plead. “Come on, Hux... please please fuck me. You’re driving me crazy. Need you to fill me up.”

“As His Lordship commands it,” Hux quipped, before gripping himself at the base and pushing into Kylo in one long press that had Kylo gasping by the time he bottomed out.

“So thick, so /thick/,” Kylo babbled. “More, please, want it hard...”

Hux clicked his tongue in chastisement but gripped Kylo’s hips anyway and began at a punishing pace that made Kylo brace himself against the arm of the sofa.

“Incredible,” Kylo said, breathless, “you feel so good. Such a good lay, fuck, glad you showed up at my door. Glad you wanted, mm, ah, fuck...” He trailed off, biting into the pillow again when Hux changed the angle. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes and he reached down, squeezing his cock, not even stroking it properly, just giving himself that little bit of stimulation.

“Kylo I want to look at your face. I’m going to pull out, and I want you to roll over. I want to see your face when you come, this time. I couldn’t see it before, when I was under your kilt.”

Even with this warning, Kylo made a noise of disappointment when Hux slid out of him. It took a bit of effort to roll over and not kick Hux in the face, but once he had, Hux looked down at him with such heat in his eyes, Kylo’s cock twitched. Hux arranged Kylo’s kilt to his liking, and ran the back of one finger up the line of Kylo’s cock.

“Very pretty. In fact,” Hux rummaged behind him until his hand landed on his phone, lifted it up between them. “Can I have a picture of you like this?”

“Yeah,” Kylo groaned, cock drooling on his belly. “Fuck I’m just thinking about you looking at these pictures and stroking your cock. Look at me, Hux,” he ran two fingers through the mess gathering below his navel. “You’re so hot. I can’t believe you just fell into my lap like this.”

Hux snapped a few pictures. “Not yet I haven’t. I could climb onto your cock like this. It’s very pretty.”

“Pretty. You keep saying that.”

“Only because it’s true.”

“Mm,” Kylo mumbled, fingering his slit again, then reaching between his spread legs to finger his hole. He was a little sore already. Hux took another picture. “Do you want to take a picture of me when I’m coming? I’d let you.”

“If I’m not coming, myself.”

Kylo pulled his fingers out of himself, reached for the lube. “Better get on that,” he urged, pressing the bottle into Hux’s hand. Hux slicked himself again, slid in easy. Kylo knew he was making a face, his mouth falling open, his brows pinching. He tried not to think about it, hoped he was making a pretty picture for Hux.

“We’ve got to be careful about your kilt,” he reminded Kylo.

“I could take it off,” Kylo replied, but Hux made a disgusted sound.

“Absolutely not!” he insisted, “Do you have any idea what you look like right now? I could show you the pictures.”

“Please don’t. Just fuck me,” Kylo groaned.

Hux built back up to the brutal rhythm Kylo had begged for at the outset. Kylo was moaning loud and desperate, wanted to cover his face, muffle himself, but, this was what Hux had asked for. For some reason, Hux wanted to look at his face.

“I could fuck the valley between your pectorals,” Hux observed. “You are so fucking sculpted, it’s unreal.”

Kylo shook his head. He could get more definition in his abs, he’d always thought, but had a persistent fleshiness there. His cock bumped against that excess, each time Hux’s hips slammed into his.

“Accept it, Kylo. Accept that you are fucking beautiful. And this goddamned /kilt/. I’ve never seen anyone wear one that /did it for me/ like this.” His words were a hiss, forced out with each thrust. “I’ve seen guys at fetish events in those modern kilts, but not one of them looked like you. One look at you when you opened the door, and I was panting. Gagging for it.”

“Really?” Kylo’s voice sounded alien to his own ears, a broken croak. “I couldn’t tell. You weren’t even looking at me until I brought you a drink.”

“Obviously. I was trying to stop myself from climbing into your lap and rutting against you like an animal.” He gripped Kylo’s thighs, ground in so Kylo could really, really feel the girth of him, lose his mind on it.

“Mm, imagine,” Kylo huffed, “if you’d, uh, jumped on me then. Wrapped legs around me. I’d have pinned you to the carpet in the hall. You haven’t kissed me.”

Hux made a soft sound, leaned forward. It was a difficult angle, but he just barely managed to meet Kylo’s lips. It was a messy kiss, and it kept breaking because Hux couldn’t stop the motions of his hips, but it was delicious. It trapped Kylo’s cock between them, and Kylo suddenly remembered Hux was still mostly dressed, his jeans pushed down just enough to expose his cock.

“Gonna come on your shirt,” he warned, warm into Hux’s mouth. “Gonna ruin it. You’ll have to get on the tube, stained with my come, your phone full of dirty pictures.”

“It’s... I don’t know, a genetic sample,” Hux said, and Kylo laughed, and then he was coming, delirious. He couldn’t remember ever coming and laughing at the same time and it was a transcendent experience.

“That’s horrible!” Kylo insisted, still laughing, still streaking his belly. When he opened his eyes, Hux’s phone was there, taking picture after picture of his ecstatic face.

“Probably. Yes,” Hux agreed. “But it got you off, so what does that say?”

“It says you have a fucking magic dick,” Kylo gushed, fucked out, lightheaded. Then Hux was laughing and coming too. Kylo grabbed Hux’s phone from his limp fingers, took a photo as Hux emptied into him. “God you’re perfect,” Kylo whispered, and Hux made an almost pained sound, curled over him and Kylo felt Hux’s cock twitch inside him with the last spurts of his orgasm.

“Oh, Jesus,” Hux rasped, pulling out gingerly. “I feel... like you’ve pulled my soul out through my dick. Holy shit.” He collapsed against the opposite arm of the couch, too exhausted to even tug his jeans up. Kylo knelt up, and snapped another picture of Hux as he lay there, eyes closed, expression blissful, softening cock glistening with lube and the remnants of his own release.

“I’m going to text these photos to myself,” Kylo proclaimed.

“Mm. Good. Then I’ll have your number.”

“Yes. So you can help me with this genealogy project,” Kylo said.

“Uh huh,” Hux answered intelligently. “Or message you for a booty call.”

“Either or,” Kylo agreed.

Eventually, Kylo roused himself to get to the kitchen for a damp towel to mop his stomach. He offered it to Hux to clean his shirt, who finally cracked his eyes open, made a halfhearted attempt at swabbing his front before giving it up as a lost cause.

“This is not at all what I expected from this,” Hux said, staring up at the ceiling. “Best personal ad I ever answered.” He was quiet for a long time. “What happens after you are named Chief of your Clan?” He asked, finally. “Are you entitled to any property or anything?”

“Not that I know of. Just the title.” Kylo went about tidying his table, tying the old book together again.

“Mm,” Hux answered. “Maybe you should open that bar, then. The Highland Heat, or something quaint like that.”

“Yes. Step one, novelty bar. Step two, castle.”

“The bar could be inside a castle. For authenticity.” Hux had still barely moved. He’d tugged his underwear up, but that seemed to have exhausted him all over again.

“Oh, I’m sure the National Trust would love that,” Kylo retorted drily.

“Sure, why not. Liquor is taxable. Austerity measures and all that.” Hux waved a dismissive hand from his sprawl on the sofa.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Kylo objected, tucking the book safely away again.

“I’m a geneticist, not an economist. And you’re a bartender. So, get us another botanical cocktail will you?”

Kylo straightened up, observed Hux as he stretched languidly on the sofa. He smiled to himself, and snapped another picture. Eventually, they’d get to tracing his family, but for now he was content to mix Hux another cocktail, and fantasize about a castle far away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is unedited, and patently ridiculous but I hope you enjoyed. No offense to the author of the original personal ad.


End file.
